


Chrysalism

by jamiesfreckles



Series: Beautiful Words [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Comfort Food, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesfreckles/pseuds/jamiesfreckles
Summary: Chrysalism: the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.It’s nice, to be able to take care of James this way, to see the tension ease from his muscles and watch his eyes darken like drizzled honey, soft with contentment.





	Chrysalism

**Author's Note:**

> The summary makes it sound a bit risqué, but it’s not. Just soft, I think. Not related to the series other than the connection of using a ‘beautiful word’ as a prompt.

_Chrysalism: the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm._

***

The beating pulse of the storm is distant, muted by the only thing that can capture Teddy Lupin’s attention regardless of the surrounding chaos of the world: James.

Teddy sinks deeper into the cushions of the sofa, his bare feet pressed into the soft scratchiness of the carpet. He watches, eyes sharp, as James hangs up his coat. He’s soaked. Rain glints in the hollows of his body, the secret places that people can only linger on with their eyes—and they often do, much to Teddy’s grit-teethed jealousy—and not the pads of their fingers. 

Teddy longs to touch, but he won’t. He can’t. If he lets himself touch, he won’t ever stop. He will spend the rest of his life grazing his fingers over sun-kissed skin. 

“Good day?” 

James rolls his neck, a sigh billowing out of him, drowning out the wind that rattles their glass cage in a howling rage. 

“Long day. Christ, I swear people get more stupid every day, and I’m not even talking about the customers. Do you know how many times I had to stop Hugo from picking up a Punching Telescope?” 

Teddy slants an eyebrow up, knowing the answer. “I’m guessing the number is less than it should be, knowing you. Does he have a black eye?” 

“Two. I gave up after the first couple of times.” James snickers quietly, cracking his knuckles as he shifts, bone-tired and yet still magnetic with each movement, across the living room. _Their_ living room. 

They share rooms now. They live in the same house: they bump into each other on the way up and down the stairs, sharing nudges and fumbling steps; they share the counter space in the kitchen, passing cloves of garlic and sharp knives back and forth with teasing jabs; they take up one half of the sofa each, feet often tangled; and more often than not, Teddy wakes with a crick in his neck to find them both splayed out on one of their beds, the hours lost in talking and falling asleep. 

They share the sofa now, when James drops into it. Still wet, leaving imprints on the cushions, and—when he tips his head back in a yawn, exposing his wet throat—in Teddy’s self-control. His shoes are shucked off, his damp socks pressed against Teddy’s thigh, an impish light in his sleepy eyes. 

“I made tea,” Teddy says, pointing to the steam blooming from the mug on the side-table. Preempting James’s protest, he adds, “I hid your coffee, and you can have it back when you’ve slept.” 

James digs his toes in. “There’s probably a loophole there that I can exploit. I’m good at exploitation.” 

“I already ate, but there’s food in the fridge for you,” Teddy says, rolling his eyes as easily as he rolls over James’s words. “You just have to heat it up.” 

“As someone who’s famous for heating things up, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” 

There’s a wink. It’s aimed roughly in Teddy’s direction, but it misses by a handful of inches. James is tired, worn out from weeks of hard work, taking over for George at the shop while he goes back and forth between home and the hospital. 

(It doesn’t matter how many times the Healers reassure them that Angelina will be fine, that her flying accident was superficial at best, it makes no difference. There are stews cooked up, shifts swapped and taken, flowers plucked and sent, and books read by her unimpressed bedside. George grips her hand even as she pats his, and tells him kindly to shut up. 

Teddy popped by with a book on Muggle Astrophysics and some earplugs the other day, and he’s never seen anyone look so grateful in his life before as Angelina did.)

“You’re working too hard.” 

James snorts, eyes closed as he leans against the sofa. Teddy sighs. He takes his wand from the table—dragon heartstring, and he always thought that was wrong before, that he had the heart of something soft and weak, until he was faced with loving James, and he felt fire in him unlike anything he thought possible—and waves it. 

James shudders as warmth rushes over him. Teddy watches as his cheeks fill with colour, the moisture on his skin drying up, leaving coolness at first, like the first breath of snow, and then suffusing him with a pale heat. He’s still in his everyday clothes, but at least now he’s warm and dry. 

“Thanks, Teddy.” James cracks one eye open and grins, cheeky. “You gonna feed me too? Tuck me in?” 

Rain begins to patter on the windows, but try as it might, it can’t reach the body nestled in the safety of the cushions. 

James, being James, has taken on more than is healthy. Teddy would gladly take care of him, in a heartbeat, whichever way necessary, but there’s no way to do that without it seeming suspicious. 

This, though, is a perfect opening. 

The rumble of thunder from outside barely dents their quiet cocoon. Teddy summons the plate of butter chicken, seasoned with a handful of spice and thick with sauce, and the bowl of rice, and sets it on his lap. The cling-film takes a moment to peel away, sticking stubbornly to the edges of each dish. 

“I was joking,” James says, cheeks more red than before, but he doesn’t move away as a fork and spoon fly in from the kitchen. 

Teddy puts the tip of his wand against each dish, and before long, steam blooms here too. 

“Seriously, Teds,” James says, stretching languidly, but not with the foolproof casual air he wants to portray. “I said I was joking.” 

The dishes begin to hover, waiting patiently nearby. 

“I wasn’t.” Teddy shrugs, shifting closer until he’s pressed up against James’s knee, pulled up against his chest. “You’re tired and you need to eat. I don’t mind looking after you. I want to.” 

“That’s—”

James stops, shrugging. He still looks somewhat flustered, which is a novelty for him, but he accepts the fork when Teddy nudges it against his mouth. Teddy grins at him, soft and encouraging. 

For a few minutes, there’s just the clink of cutlery as Teddy spears bits of chicken, and the sound of James humming as he chews. It’s nice, to be able to take care of James this way, to see the tension ease from his muscles, and watch his eyes darken like drizzled honey, soft with contentment. He handles the rice himself, but he lets Teddy feed him bites of chicken until the plate is mostly empty. 

“Don’t tell Albus,” James says, when the dishes begin their trek back to the kitchen. “He’ll never shut up if he hears about you _feeding_ me.” 

Teddy doesn’t see what the big deal is, personally. James is always the more outwardly loving of the two, the one who tells Teddy he loves him daily, the one who touches without thought or self-recrimination. He gives little gifts—wooden postcards, stuffed wolves, stickers in the shapes of planets and half-moons—and he cooks, makes tea, washes the blankets after he’s finished making temporary Pygmy Puff bedding out of them. James is a man of big gestures and all the little, ordinary ones too. Teddy often isn’t a man of any of those things. He’s quiet, with a too-sharp smile and a focused mind. He’s wicked with the right persuasion, and forgets that it’s okay to say simple, loving things. It’s not that he doesn’t want to. It just comes too stiffly. 

This, though, he can do. He can take care of James this way, when James forgets how, when he’s too tired to bother. 

“If it made you uncomfortable,” Teddy begins, about to continue with _then you should have bloody socked me one—_

“It didn’t,” James assures him. His cheeks are flushed again. “I told you, it’s just been a long day, that’s all. I’m not used to you being all handsy.” James wiggles his fingers. “Tragic, honestly.” 

Teddy’s heart leaps in time with the next complaint of thunder. Lightning cracks across the sky. It’s barely visible, barely audible, because Teddy stays here, with his eyes fixed on James’s curious, hopeful look.

“We can’t have any tragedies in this house,” Teddy says, playing along, his voice low with amusement. “I guess I’ll have to fix that.” 

He wiggles his own fingers; James’s eyes stray and then remain fixed, heavily, on the rough pads of Teddy’s fingers. 

“You know, I wasn’t kidding about the long day.” James stands, all smooth grace mixed with stumbling tiredness, and stretches his arms above his head. The muscles in his stomach flex when his shirt pulls up, revealing slim hips and sunny, freckled skin. Teddy longs to touch. This time, he’s not so quick to think that he can’t. 

“I should probably get to bed, seeing as I’m so tired I need you to feed me.” 

James ambles around the sofa, easy as anything. It’s striking, the amount of disappointment Teddy feels. He clears his throat softly, fumbling to put his wand away as he reaches for his tea, now cool. 

“Right, yeah. Good idea. Night, Jamie.” 

The footsteps stop behind him, in the mid-distance, near the foot of the stairs. 

“What, changed your mind?” 

Teddy jerks, lowering the mug before he can take a sip. He frowns over his shoulder, taking in James’s bitten lip, he way his expression has gone impish again. He doesn’t feel any less confused.

“What?” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve chickened out now.” James grins, one hand on the banister, one foot on the first step, one sentence away from something new, old, and inevitable. “Didn’t you say something about tucking me in?” 

Teddy sucks in a breath. James turns and treads up the stairs, leading the way and trusting him to follow. 

Love swells like a storm in Teddy’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, I’d love to hear from you! <3


End file.
